


e mo tion

by reversemagician (himaAlaya)



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Modern Primarch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himaAlaya/pseuds/reversemagician
Summary: “So you can get a handle on using a keyboard, but using a phone is a little too much, huh.” Belial tosses the bag onto the counter, and drops the drink tray next to it. “Are you listening to me?”





	1. the kids aren't alright.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a collection of fics where sandalphon is still really old but he integrates in with modern human society. modern primarch sandalphon in the year 2018.

“Hey. Sandy I’m home.” He throws his keys onto the table in the front hall, watching them almost fall through the crack between it and the wall. Whatever, he could find them later. “Helllooooooo. Supreme primarch of vengeance and overseer of all evolution, I have returned with the requested ‘nuggies’.”

He turns on the light in the living room, where he sees Sandalphon sitting cross legged on the couch. Wasn’t he there this morning? Did he even move? Not that he had to do anything, he could have sat there all day it wasn’t entirely out of the question.

“So you can get a handle on using a keyboard, but using a phone is a little too much, huh.” Belial tosses the bag onto the counter, and drops the drink tray next to it. “Are you listening to me?” 

Sandalphon doesn’t answer, his eyes are glued to the screen. He has bulky headphones on, older ones that Belial ended up never using. Whatever he was watching, it was just an album cover. Did he not know you could flip over to another tab and the music would still keep playing? “Earth to Sandalphon.” He strode up behind the couch, and unplugged the jack from the computer. 

Music spilled out from the speakers softly.

_ When it rains it pours _ __   
_ Stay thirsty like before _ _   
_ __ Don't you know that the kids aren't all, kids aren't alright

_ I'm not passive but aggressive _ __   
_ Take note, it's not impressive _ __   
_ Empty your sadness, like you're dumping your purse _ __   
_ On my bedroom floor _ _   
_ __ We put your curse in reverse

Sandalphon whips around when the music suddenly stops in his headphones. His cheeks are streaked with tears as he goes to grab for the jack. His eyes are still watering, the normally handsome man looking ruined in a familiar way. “Give that back.” He snaps, sounding stuffed up more than anything else. 

Belial let’s it drop next to him, and he snatches it up again and plugs it back in quickly. He wipes his face with his sleeve, it’s already wet. Sandalphon wants to hide away, he moves to get up, gripping the laptop tightly. “Hey, hey get back here. Sit down.” He shuffles back into his spot, falling into the cushions. Something cold presses against his face, and he looks. A cup is pressed into his skin. “Not even going to eat even after you demanded I get you this garbage?” 

He lets his death grip on the laptop go, letting it sit on his legs. It’s burning from being on too long, but he ignores it. “Thank you.” He says it quietly, almost like he’s afraid of his own voice. This was not the same person who he had spoken to an hour ago. 


	2. routine

His phone rang 3 times before picked up. He stretched across his bed, and over another body, to get it. Who was in his bed? Probably someone who had paid for the boyfriend experience. It certainly wasn’t who he wanted it to be, and it probably never would be him either. He hit the screen, blinding himself with the backlight and the familiar picture of a sparrow. 

What day was it again?

“What.” 

“Good morning, princess.” Of course it was Sandalphon. “I’m at the liquor store, what do you want?”

“You know what I want. It never changes.” He threw the blanket off, and slid out of bed. He bent over, picking up a stray pair of jeans from the floor. There was some of his clothes, and what looked like woman’s clothing as well. Ah, shit. What was her name. 

“So, something disgustingly overpriced. Oh.” A pause as he read a label, or a price tag. “This one is on sale.” 

Belial pulled the jeans on. “No, no on sale again. We’ve been over this.” He could hear cans rattling as Sandalphon likely put at least 2 into his basket. Great. 

“Relax I’ll get yours as well. Are we ordering pizza or something else. We’ve had pizza on Friday for 3 weeks in a row.” 

“I thought you liked disgusting greasy food, mr has no palate.” 

Sandalphon scoffs. “Look, even I like something different every now and then.” 

He makes his way out of the room, stumbling through the strewn clothes into the kitchen. He thinks for a moment about instant coffee, but Sandalphon might skin him alive if he knew there was anything other than fresh beans in the apartment. “Oh yeah, I thought you were a creature of habit.”

“So what if I am.” Belial could here the clinking of glass bottles over the phone as Sandalphon double checked the label. He knew that’s what he did every time. He once brought back the wrong kind and it was atrocious. “How about fried chicken.”

“Whatever you want is fine.” He pulls out a mug to begin the long process of making a single cup of coffee. He looks down at a scrap of paper on the counter. ‘There’s cold brew in the fridge, you heathen.’ Excellent.

“Nice, we can order it once I’m back. Oh, and get rid of whoever you slept with last night. I tripped on her shoes.”

“Be nice, she’s a client.”

“Sure, call them whatever you want you slut.” Sandalphon hangs up without a goodbye. Why did Belial expect anything else from him at this point.


	3. heatstroke

“It’s too hot to work.” Lancelot all but throws himself on top of the coffee table, arms outstretched before tying his hair up to keep it off his neck. “How will I ever survive the heat.”

Sandalphon glanced up from his armor piece. Was Lancelot always this whiny about the heat? He distinctly remembered him being more dignified and regal no matter the time. Not that he’d ever met him outside of any sort of formal situation that required him to be a captain, this was entirely new.

“They said the a/c would be fixed on Monday, you can wait one day.” 

“Nooooo. No Sandy it’s too hot.”

God he wished Vane wasn’t on a camping trip with those two stupid boys. 

Lancelot sat up, and pulled his shirt off. Sandalphon stared for a moment. “You know the window is open, and there’s a  _ breeze  _ right. You’re not going to melt.” 

“Says the one sitting in front of the open balcony door.”

He turned around. He didn’t take up nearly as much space as Lancelot was accusing him off. “Can’t you just cool yourself o-” He stopped himself. Lancelot had no idea what sort of things he was capable of. Sure, the magic was there sleeping beneath the surface, but he had no idea how to use it. “Give me your arm.”

Lancelot complied, lying back on the table and throwing his arm out. He was too hot to fight back. Sandalphon took his arm, practically pulling him across the table. He squeezed his forearm, and the breeze picked up behind him. This didn’t need too much power, not enough to require his wings. It rustled through Lancelot’s hair, until Sandalphon could feel a significant chill. 

He let’s go of Lancelot’s arm as he sits upright quickly. “What was that?” Sandalphon shrugs, taking the paintbrush in his hand again to keep detailing the pauldron he was working on earlier. Lancelot wasn’t sure what just happened, but it felt familiar, something unlocking deep in his heart. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling much cooler than he had before. “Hm…”


	4. sunlight

“Sandalphon.” 

He looked up from his phone, still trying to get a handle on this texting thing Belial had told him to use instead of always calling him. He tucked his wings in closer to his back, self conscious with Lucifer looking at him even now. Some things never changed, even after thousand of years apart. He clumsily sent the text message before dropping the phone onto the bed.

“Yes?”

Lucifer sat down on the bed, waiting for Sandalphon to cross his legs to give him room. He handed him a mug. It was warm, smelling almost exactly like he remembered from the shaded garden. “I’d like to ask you something.” 

He looked down into the mug, taking a slow sip before he could look at Lucifer again. “Depends what it is. You might not like the answer.” 

He rests his hand on Sandalphon’s leg. “How old are you, exactly?”

“Twenty si-”

“No. How old are you really.”

He froze, gripping the mug tightly in his hands. He felt like he would fall apart in that moment. Lucifer waited patiently, rubbing his thumb soothingly into his skin. Sandalphon wished he’d gotten dressed instead of trying to figure out how to use a phone again. So many things rushed to mind that he could say, he could deny how old he actually was. He could deny any conversation they’d ever had about his wings. He was shaking, he didn’t notice until Lucifer’s hand had moved to his arm. He was sitting closer to him now, warm and bright. He wasn’t blinding like he used to be, but he was still radiant. Always radiant. 

“Twenty six thousand.” He muttered, not pulling away. He stared at the mug, into his reflection. He considered leaving, putting the mug down and never returning. The thought hurt too much, it had been so long since he had seen Lucifer last and now he had his chance. There was a silence between them, Sandalphon unsure what to say. He looked up, despite his better judgement. Lucifer smiled. He wasn’t expecting that.

“You must have seen many things.”

Sandalphon opened his mouth, and quickly closed it. He brought the coffee to his lips, instead of answering. Lucifer gently unwound one of his hands from the mug, and slipped his hand in. A perfect fit. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, it had been so long. So long since he had felt any sort of peace, anything resembling happiness. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lucifer set his coffee down, wiping the tears from Sandalphon’s eyes. Sandalphon did the same, set the mug down gently and sat up on his knees. 

He reluctantly lets go of Lucifer’s hand, and wrapped his arms around his neck. He holds him to his chest, letting his wings surround them. They’re smaller than his were, but it doesn’t matter. “I’m sorry.” Sandalphon whispers, pushing his face into Lucifer’s hair. “I’m so sorry.” 

Lucifer brings his arms up, holding Sandalphon in kind. “You did nothing wrong.” 

He’d waited to hear that, waiter for thousands of years to hear those exact words. He might know understand what he was saying, or what Sandalphon was apologizing for, but it was enough. 


	5. nightfall

_Me: I need to talk to you about something_   
Lancelot ❀: now?  
_Me: Now.  
Lancelot ❀: hold on._

Percival frowned at his phone. What could he possibly be doing? He huffed, tapping at his screen to answer. It might have been 2am, but Lancelot never slept at a decent time. It wasn’t (was) part of his charm. There was hardly anytime to hit send before there was a knock on the door.

He opened the door without looking, yanking it open unceremoniously to tell whoever it was to go away. Lancelot stood in the hallway, looking like a wreck. Of course he looked like a wreck, it was 2am and he had a class in the morning. Percival could only imagine the unfinished work sitting on his laptop one floor down.

They were a stark contrast, Percival put together even at ass o’clock at night. Lancelot looking like a mess in his worn out jeans and paint covered shirt. “Let me in, it’s humid.”

“What makes you think my air conditioner is even on high enough for you?”

“Let me in, Percival.”

Percival hesitated, stepping aside to let Lancelot in. “What are you doing here?”

“What did you need to talk to me about.”

“What makes you think I wanted to talk about it in person-” Lancelot puts his hand up to stop him.

“You don’t just text people at 2am for the hell of it. You’ve never been like that.” Percival hesitate for a moment, closing the door behind Lancelot and crossing his arms. Lancelot makes his way into his apartment, falling into his chair. He crossed his arms, mimicking Percival.

There was silence between them. Lancelot didn’t say anything, waiting for Percival to speak first. He toed off the shoes he put on in a rush underneath his designated desk. He tucked his leg underneath him, and waited patiently. Percival did not anticipate having this whole conversation in person. For once, he was at a loss for words.  “How do you feel about polyamory?”

Lancelot looked away from him, suddenly very interested in the blank monitor. “I’m. I’m ok with it.” He hesitated, gripping his leg tightly. “I can’t do that to Vane.”


	6. vice

He placed a cup on his coffee table, glass clinking against it as he poured the whiskey from the bottle. Siegfried sighed, putting the bottle back on the table. The ashtray next to it was empty, and had been for years. He didn’t know why he still kepit it around as a constant reminder of his past.

He was becoming a little too nostalgic looking at it. 

Siegfried stood up, maneuvering around the table and towards the bathroom. He opened a drawer, pulling out the nicotine patches he kept hidden away. Percival was over often enough that he felt he needed to hide them. He had gotten on Siegfried’s case more than once about his electronic cigarette. It had been 6 years since he had last picked up an actual cigarette. He considered it a pretty good job. He rolled up his sleeve, and applied the patch like it was second nature.

He’d been using them more lately, a concerning amount. He fell back onto his couch, tucking the e-cigarette behind his ear. Taking the whiskey from the coffee table, he took a sip. It was familiar, but not in a way he should tell anyone about. 


End file.
